PostScript
by Neriad13
Summary: A lunch date with your ex-husband's killer is about as awkward as it gets. The woman formerly known as Amanda Meltzer has a talk with the man formerly known as Subject Delta.


Long Island, NY, 1970 C.E.

"Oh, we've got it all - fake passports, fake adoption papers, fake transcripts, fake citizenship, fake birth certificate - for Eleanor, anyway. Really, you have no idea how much paperwork it takes to get a state to recognize you as a person until you have to fill it out all at once. I'm not so sure_ I'm_ not fake sometimes."

The woman formerly known as Amanda Meltzer chuckled.

"Wow. And all I had to do was close a missing person case. And shoo away a reporter once in a while. Seems easy in comparison."

The man formerly known as Subject Delta laughed uneasily.

A flash of contempt shot through her eyes, gone as quickly as it came. She picked up her cocktail and took a sip.

She had barely put it back down before a meatball rolled off of her daughter's plate, directly into the girl's lap.

"Oh, honey." she moaned, grabbing a napkin and attempting to clean it off as best she could, "All over your nice dress…there. We'll bleach it when we get home, okay? I love you."

She kissed her on top of her downy blonde head.

"Can I go play, Mommy?"

She was pointing at a little oasis of greenery in the midst of the bustle of the city. A patch of grass, a couple trees, a park bench.

Amanda's jaw tightened. Her fingers curled around her daughter's skinny wrist.

"Pleeeease?"

"Why don't I go with her?" Eleanor cut in, dabbing the last remains of lunch from her face, "I won't let her out of my sight, I promise."

"Well…"

She relaxed a little and let go.

"Alright. But you stay where I can see you and don't go scaring Auntie Eleanor, okay?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Good girl."

When the children had gone, the smile faded from Amanda's eyes.

"So." she said, her voice dropping as she leaned conspiratorially over the table, "Mark. He's...he's really…?"

"Yes." Devon answered, the ball of nerves in his guts that he'd been trying to ignore all day suddenly tightening, "I'm so sorry."

"Hmm."

She leaned back and picked up her drink, though she did not raise it to her lips.

"And you…?"

"I did."

She let out a sigh that seemed to suck all the air out of her. The silence between them seemed to drag on forever. Devon worried away at a loose thread in his wheelchair's armrest and felt it give beneath his fingers. Her voice was flat and emotionless when she finally spoke again.

"I...have an understanding that he didn't leave you much choice and...that had you not, Cindy would not have been here today, coating herself in spaghetti sauce. But…"

She looked wistfully over at the two girls playing in the park. Cindy squealed with laughter as Eleanor mock-chased her around the grass. Finally, she caught her, lifted her off the ground and planted what looked like a sloppy raspberry on her cheek.

"Ha." Amanda laughed, totally without humor.

She covered her mouth with her hand as she dissolved into half-suppressed hysterics. Devon jumped when she slammed her hand on the table, making the plates rattle.

"God, how absurd is this? I'm having lunch with my ex-husband's killer."

He flinched as though he'd been slapped. A million retorts flashed through his mind and none of them, _not one of them _was right.

She downed the last of her drink in one gulp. As she set the glass down on the table, he saw that her eyes were shining with tears.

"I loved him, you know...even as I was signing the divorce papers."

She blew her nose into the napkin she'd used to wipe up spaghetti sauce.

"But I couldn't do it any longer. It was all...so much. It would put a strain on any marriage, right? Right?"

"Uh…"

"I was a good wife...I swear."

He wasn't entirely sure if it was him she was speaking to any longer. It was as though he'd suddenly found himself in the ladies' bathroom and there was no way out.

His hand left sweaty fingerprints on the water glass he brought to his lips, trembling. He wasn't thirsty. Anything, anything at all to not see her face, if only for a moment.

When he set the glass down, her expression was cold and stony.

"But…"

Everything hung on that one little word.

"...I don't know if I can forgive you. I'm sorry. I just...I don't know."

He wanted to tell her that it was okay. That she could hate him as much as she needed to for as long as she needed to. But deep down, it felt like a stab to the heart. Like she was looking at him and seeing a monster all over again.

He reached up and touched his face. It was still there - flesh, not metal and glass.

She wasn't looking at him any longer.

A tiny smile returned to her face as she watched the girls play. They were pretending to be airplanes now, their arms held out stiffly, their lips pursed with what he supposed were engine sounds.

The waiter dropped off the check. Devon paid.

"I suppose we should go get them."

Devon nodded in agreement. There was a lump in his throat at exactly the same place where his artificial voicebox used to be.

She made a move to gather up her things. Devon scooched backwards from the table. He wanted to be a gentleman and help her into her coat but he could only stand for a short time and there was no telling whether his balance would hold out. He waited instead, until she was ready.

They strolled side by side to the little park, her heels clicking on the cobbles, his wheels bumping uncomfortably over them.

"Cindy!" she called, "Time to go, honey!"

Cindy's arms dropped.

"Ten more minutes! Pleeease?"

"Fine! But no ten minutes after that, alright?"

"_Moooom_."

"I know your tricks! I'll be over here, alright?"

She sat on the park bench. Devon rolled in next to her. Ten minutes seemed like a prison sentence to him.

They sat in a silence that stretched eons. Eleanor was spinning her around in the air now. She seemed to be slowing down a bit, even if Cindy was still filled to the brim with energy.

"But…"

His fingernails dug into the armrests of his chair. His jaw tightened.

"Despite everything...I want to thank you. Thank you for bringing her back."

Her bottom lip trembled as she gave his hand a quick squeeze. Before he could say another word, she was gone, scooping Cindy up, the two of them waving goodbye to Eleanor.

When they had gone, Eleanor made her way to the bench and sat down heavily.

"How did it go?"

"Could've been worse."

He flexed the hand she had touched.

"But it wasn't."


End file.
